


Just a Touch

by Auntie Mem (NotYourMemily)



Series: Just a Touch [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), F/M, My First Smut, Non-con/dub-con, SIN WITH ME, Somnophilia, dear god i'm so nervous about posting this, reader is female, sans pov, sans/reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYourMemily/pseuds/Auntie%20Mem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans brings a close friend back to her apartment after they spend the night out drinking.<br/>~*~<br/>Sans had always wondered.  How could he help it?  In all the time the two of you spent together, there had never been a good time to mention it.  He couldn't exactly just up and ask to explore your body, no matter how curious he got.  That would make things too weird.  But he was curious.  The clinical understanding he had of human physiology could only satisfy him for so long.  He wanted first-hand experience.  Getting to know you only made that desire stronger, more . . . personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long while, and it's been even longer since I shared my work online. Constructive criticism is encouraged and appreciated!
> 
> Dedicated to the Triumvirate of Sin for inspiring me to start writing again.
> 
> Also!! Thank you to Onadacora (yes holy crap I got feedback from OnaMama!) and to Wazzle, Charles, and PanDemiC for your input! :D

Sans knew better than to even consider lingering here in your apartment any longer than he had to while you were so vulnerable.  So, he focused on the business of getting you set up in bed. You were too full of drowsy giggles to help out, but he got you to stay put sitting at the edge of your bed while he gathered a few necessities on your bedside table.  
  
_glass of water? check. aspirin? check. cell phone, plugged in and charging? check._

You didn’t have A/C, so Sans opened a window to let in the sluggish summer breeze.  It wouldn’t do much to cool things off in here, but at least he could let in some fresh air.

He glanced over to find you fiddling ineffectively with the laces of your sneakers. With a sigh, he knelt down beside you to loosen your shoes until you could kick them away under your bed. You pulled your legs up onto the mattress with the rest of you, and Sans tugged the sheets from the foot of your bed up over your waist. You reached out to grab the sleeve of his blue jacket, muttering something too quietly for him to hear. When he leaned in, you lifted your head off the pillow, lids drooping over your hazy eyes, and-

“Muah.”  A blissfully supple pair of lips bonked clumsily against his zygomatic arch.  “Thanks, bone boy.”  Your head fell back, muscles limp.  Sans looked at you blankly for a moment and tried to ignore the tingly blue haze spreading from the spot on his cheekbone where you had kissed him.  He chuckled weakly.

  
"g'night, kid. sweet dreams." He scooted away to stand, but- your grip on his sleeve only tightened as he tried to pull away.  
  
"hey, c’mon.  leggo.  i gotta get home."  
  
You weren't making this easy on him.  Sans reached out with his free hand to brush some fallen hair away from your sweat-damp face.  You were already bound to wake up confused and disoriented after staying out drinking with him 'til 2 in the morning.  He didn't want to add to that confusion by still being in your room with you when you came around.  
  
He should've insisted on taking you home sooner.  Or better yet, called you a cab.  But no, he had been having too much fun.  And when you challenged him to a drinking contest, well.  Things got a bit out of hand.  
  
You murmured again, drawing Sans' attention down to your mouth.  His phalanges drifted across your face, brushing your eyelids, your nose, your cheeks, your lips.  
  
"so soft."  
  
Really, what could it hurt?  Sans was sure that if he ever got up the nerve to ask, you wouldn't mind letting him explore a bit.   _He_ definitely wouldn't mind if _you_ wanted to- okay, bad example, but the point stood.  So . . .  
  
He started with the hand that had kept him there in the first place.  Totally platonic.  No big deal, right?  You appeared to be fully asleep now, breathing evenly, your fingers finally relaxed.  Cautiously, Sans peeled them loose from his sleeve one at a time.  The blue tracery of veins in your palm led his survey down along your slender wrist, all the way to the crook of your elbow.  He loved being able to see even this little bit of how you worked, and took a moment to relish the faint sensation of your pulse   Sans' soul throbbed in counterpoint to your heart's gentle rhythm as he knelt beside you on the bed.  One hand moved to the pulse point on your throat while the other trailed along your clavicle, leaving a trail of- was it geesebumps?- in its wake.  
  
Sans tugged down the zipper of his jacket, made uncomfortably warm by the sight of your body's response to his touch.  He barely paused to think before pulling his arms free, leaving on the old white tee he wore underneath.  It did nothing to help cool the low heat gathering at his pelvis, which he did his damnedest to ignore.  Yet he didn't want to stop.  Warily, he eyed the gap between the trailing hem of your shirt and the waistband of your denim shorts.  
  
"no.  no way," Sans muttered.  
  
_then again, it's not like you haven't seen her in a bathing suit before.  she didn't mind letting ya see a little extra skin at the beach a couple months back._  
  
"that was different.   _this_ is different."  
  
_you got a point. her underwear probably covers much more of her than that bikini did._  He shivered in guilty pleasure at the memory.  Even his first view of the ocean hadn't kept him from sneaking glances your way- and that had been before he realized that he was interested in you for more than just your unfamiliar biology.  
  
_besides, she's softer than you.  more sensitive.  just think how uncomfortable-_ Sans didn't bother fighting the impulse any longer.  He grasped the hem of your shirt and tugged it gently over your head, taking extra care not to jostle you as he maneuvered around your arms.  
  
He reveled in the heat of your skin against his cool palms, stroking your sides, your waist, your stomach.  Your bellybutton in particular drew his gaze; he spent a little extra time just trailing a light circle around the divot in the otherwise smooth plane of your belly.  Were you ticklish?  He’d never thought to ask.  That could be a fun experiment.

The clasp at the front of your bra gave him some trouble, but it was more than worth the effort to unbind the soft mounds of your breasts.  Sans felt the heat of magic hum along every bone.  One blue eye painted your sleeping form with dim light.

" _stars_ , you're so amazing."  
  
Wincing at the low creak of the mattress, Sans shifted his weight nearer the foot of the bed to fumble at the closure of your shorts.  It almost seemed impossible at first.  His bones just couldn't get any purchase on the smooth metal of the button.  With a frustrated grunt, Sans used his blue magic to rip it clear off.  He vaguely registered the dull *clink* of metal against the hardwood floor, but didn’t bother looking to see where it landed.  
  
He leaned over you, nuzzling his face against your neck.  Faintly shimmering coils of magic spooled away from his bones to rove across your body.  A few wandered to your hips and slid the denim off your legs onto the floor.  Sans ran his hands through your hair, distractedly rocking his newly-formed cock against your core.  Your bare breasts brushed up against him through his shirt, nipples peaked.

Immediately Sans turned his attention to the firm buds and prodded one gently, almost as much out of curiosity as out of arousal.  He’d seen your body do this once or twice before, though only through your clothes.  Thing was, from what he knew, it meant you were either cold, or . . .

_oh._

He shuddered with nervous excitement.  One hand traveled lower to the vee of your thighs, brushing lightly across the patch of wetness he found seeping through your panties.  You let out a quiet mewl, shifting slightly.

“well, shit.”  Even asleep, your body seemed to welcome his touch.

Sans didn't stop to think about what he was doing anymore.  You felt too good underneath him, pressed up against him, filling his mind and soul with the sultry buzz of arousal.  He pulled one knee up between your thighs and pushed them apart.

  
With one hand, Sans tugged your panties down over your knees, while the other molded a bare breast.  A few stray tendrils briefly left your body to loosen the drawstring of his shorts.  He kicked them off of the bed and positioned his hips between your legs.  Slowly, carefully, he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, smearing a bead of pre-cum across your clit.  
  
Shuddering breaths wracked his body.  Your body’s unconscious response had left you wet enough to welcome him with little trouble.  Inch by careful inch, he worked himself into you.  
  
When he hilted, the sensation almost broke Sans' control. He had touched himself before, sure, but a layer of cushioning magic over him palm couldn't compare to _this_ . He gazed at your peaceful face in admiration and awe. Sans leaned down to gently press his forehead against yours. He started to move.  
  
"hnngh- oh, fuck yes!"  He rolled his hips against yours feverishly.  For months, he had imagined touching you like this, wondered what you would look like with all your defenses down.  He bent his face down to suckle your breast, phalanges clutching your hips hard enough to bruise. Nothing mattered more at that moment than the velvety wet heat of you, the salty-sweet taste of your skin under his tongue.

Ripples of sensation chased each other along his bones.  Sans savored the slight give of your flesh under his rigid frame, pressing himself up against you just to memorize your every curve.  There was nothing, no one in his mind but the two of you.  He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, nibbling your throat and collarbone.  That was one of his favorite places on your body; it fascinated him to see the outline of bones hiding just beneath your skin.

When he moved to press his teeth against your lips, though, something caught his attention.  For a moment, his slowed the pace of his thrusts, working through a fog of lust, trying to identify what

“Mmmh, Sans!” your gentle moan carried a lingering whiff of alcohol.  Sans bit back his own euphoric groan.  The sound of his name on your lips had his soul singing out in agonizing bliss.

_oh stars, oh fuck, this isn’t- she isn’t- i should stop, but i just-_

Sans realized distantly that he was close to his peak, but before he could even consider pulling out, the throbbing pressure in his cock surged up into overwhelming ecstasy. His fierce rhythm sped to a frantic, stuttering pace as he rode out the waves of orgasm, filling you up. Finally he collapsed on top of you, spent and gasping.  Slowly his magic retreated inside him again, any evidence dissipating into thin air.  For a moment, all Sans could do was lie there, basking in the heady scent of you.  An aftershock shimmered down his spine.  
  
He muddled through the post-coital haze of guilt and elation in order to slip back into his shorts.  Briefly he considered putting you back in your clothes, tucking you in and acting for all the world as though nothing had happened tonight.  
  
_i could go home, crawl into bed and pretend i never even touched her._  Even thinking it made him feel sick.  No.  Instead, he dressed you in his tee and slipped into bed with you, one arm thrown over his eye sockets to block out the dim glow of dawn through the open window.  He knew from experience that hiding from his mistakes never helped.  Sleeping did, though.  At least for a little while.  So he would sleep for now.  
  
In the morning . . . ?  Hell if he knew.

\---

You gape at the usually-mellow skeleton sitting across the table from you, mug of coffee long since grown cold in your hands.  Sans makes a valiant effort to disappear into the bulky hood of his jacket.  Is he fucking serious?

“so, uh.  yeah.  shit, kid, i’m really sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> I finished writing this in the car with my Mom and younger sister on the way to our family vacation. Who knew FoB and Hamilton could make for such inspiring background music?
> 
> By the by, although it doesn't come up in the fic, my headcanon is that the reader character would have consented to sex if she had been in a fit state to do so.
> 
> Curious what happens next? Check out "More Than He Bargained For", a morning-after piece from the reader's perspective. After all, we're bound to have a lot of questions when we wake up- especially once we notice the _hand-shaped bruises on our hips_.
> 
> Written in response to this prompt: https://undertail.dreamwidth.org/256.html?thread=64256#cmt64256


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